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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617540">In Denial, Next To Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer'>Hawkbringer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Car Sex, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal's superhuman sense of smell, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Murder Husbands, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Service Top, Sort Of, Will Graham's tortured internal monologue, mention of murder, post-murder boners</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23617540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Floating in the blissful aftermath of another shared murder, Will Graham squirms in Hannibal's passenger seat, aching for his grounding touch. Hannibal knows they cannot tarry at the scene, and instructs Will to hold out until they get home. But Will Graham's mind always conspires against his bliss and his peace, so as always, it falls to Hannibal to bring him back up, to fish him out of the dark swamp he keeps trying to drown himself in. Rescued victims are not always grateful in the moment, but Hannibal is willing to put in the effort to make it so. (Written July 2015)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Denial, Next To Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Mentions events of my previous short hannigram fic 'sleep-walk close to me' but not necessary to read it. </p>
<p>Originally written 31st july 2015 or earlier:</p>
<p>What Will is doing, slutting it up in season 2, is undeniably seduction. Where they end up, tho, is what makes this NOT an unbearably long and bizarrely violent intro to a gay porno. They do not end up in bed. They end up standing over a corpse. They do pillow talk after /murdering/, not after fucking. There is little about the act of penetration or genital touching or reciprocation of physical arousal that is really all that sacred. But with allosexuals, it's kind of /inevitable/?? Perfect excuse for rushed handjobs. Perhaps it's Will that adds that element to their relationship.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's wincing as he walks back to the car, limping. Hannibal is anxious to know if he is hurt. Will plays it up, doesn't hide. He leans back against the side of the car and spreads his knees as he hisses. "Hurts," is all he says. </p>
<p>"Are you injured?" Hannibal asks again, stepping into his personal space, putting hands on his legs, kneeling and scenting for blood. His mouth parts of its own accord as he is blindsided by the scent of Will's arousal. </p>
<p>"N...No," Will half-grunts, half-gasps, his throat working around the word as he senses Hannibal's eyes upon his face again. He winces, seemingly apropos of nothing, and shifts his thighs beneath Hannibal's hands, aching to open them. </p>
<p>Hannibal makes a very swift decision, running his tongue over the back of his lower lip. "Not here," he tells Will, standing swiftly and hauling Will upright slightly by the hips. He underestimates how difficult it is to pull away once Will's bodyheat seeps through his gloves. </p>
<p>His face betrays true marvel, a tiny moment of bewildered lost consciousness that Will tries to file away for later, but he's pretty sure, as he does so, that it's going to get lost in the noise of Hannibal's scent and arousal and murder and he'll be unable to think of Hannibal vulnerable without also thinking of Hannibal aroused without also thinking of himself aroused without also thinking of the both of them having just /committed murder/... That is his design. </p>
<p>Will groans at the unfairness of having such a clever keeper, and Hannibal is distracted enough by the sound to finally open the car door and usher Will inside. </p>
<p>Once they are side by side in the darkness again, as always (now, as before), Hannibal gives him a simple instruction. "Maintain your level of arousal, Will. Until we arrive at the house. But do not climax." </p>
<p>"Hnnrrgghh," Will groans, wrestling his hand down towards his crotch, spreading his knees and bumping the left one against Hannibal's on the gas pedal. That might be a dangerous situation, he numbly observed from somewhere in the back of his mind that wasn't awash in sex hormones. After some maneuvering, he settles into thrusting up against his stationary hand, not having enough elbow room to really move his hand. </p>
<p>"Good, Will," Hannibal soothes as he drives, surreptitiously checking the odometer to gauge the time they have. Will groans at the encouragement, throwing his head back against the uncomfortable headrest, wishing to deities he doesn't believe in that someday, Hannibal's approval wouldn't wash over him like a warm bath, wouldn't baptize him anew every time, wouldn't feel like swimming in other people's tears. Will is certain that if he could taste the flood of Hannibal's approval, it would taste cloyingly salty. And sweet. And bitter. It would be a too-thin sauce on the tongue, unsatisfying, leaving the taster wanting only more. </p>
<p>There are so many reasons Will should just open the car door and fling himself into the abyss beyond the windows... There are so few reasons to stay. But those that are, are simply more compelling. And those are the reasons that win, in the end. </p>
<p>Not the least of which is that Hannibal would simply stop the car, turn it around, and fetch Will back, on foot, if he had to. Will holds no illusions regarding Hannibal's ability to catch him if he ran. </p>
<p>He works for the FBI. If there was anywhere Hannibal couldn't get to him, a place that was still sacred, that knew his secrets and barred the devil at its doors, Will doesn't know where it is. Doesn't know if he could get there in time. Doesn't know if it's already too late. </p>
<p>It is. There's no point in deluding himself, one of his smaller, saner voices capitulates. It has been too late for far too long, so why does he always have this conversation with himself every time? After /every/ kill? Just his bad luck to keep picking at open wounds, he supposed. 'And give me the wisdom to know the difference,' he thought to himself, and although he was uncomfortable with the size of the pile that fell under 'powerless to change,' there were far more pleasurable things to do with his time. And after all. If he /didn't/ do them, he'd probably be killed.</p>
<p>"Makes things a lot simpler, knowing what you are," Will muses after they arrive, still wincing as he unfolds himself from the passenger seat of Hannibal's Bentley. </p>
<p>"You do not have to expend mental energy attempting to figure it out anymore," Hannibal suggests as side-by-side they glide up the path to his mansion's front door. Will nods. </p>
<p>"If I try to run, I'll be caught, either by you or by the law. The law would kill me. You..." He catches his eye as they dance around each other, partially disrobing in the entryway. "You might /not/," he decides, wrestling with one of his shoes. </p>
<p>Hannibal decides in that moment that what Will Graham needs tonight is a reminder of why he's never had it so good. He's not in a mood to ignore the worst right now, so Hannibal will make sure he doesn't ignore the best in his distaste. Hannibal kneels, and undoes Will's shoelaces for him. Will protests, and Hannibal shushes him gently, accentuating the seductive pursed lips with a palm unabashedly cupping his groin. </p>
<p>Will /did/ keep his word, Hannibal finds. He is pulsing at half mast. It must be /so/ painful by now, no wonder he decided to let it wither a bit. He smoothly strokes, just gliding his palm up and down, as he undoes Will's shoelaces with one hand, then Will's coat, stopping to help him shrug out of it, then to shrug out of his own. </p>
<p>Will's hand is back on his dick by the time Hannibal turns around from placing their coats on their assigned hooks, and Hannibal smiles faintly. He leads Will by the hand to their now-shared upstairs bedroom. After that first night Will had wandered into Hannibal's bed with nightmares, they had discovered that he slept better beside a talisman to ward off even the most frightening of terrors - he /was/ the Devil himself. </p>
<p>Will tries to not forget, tries to hold onto the paradox and the sad, terrifying irony, but Hannibal's mouth between his legs is not conducive to multi-layered thinking and for once, every word that spills from his lips is a direct reflection of precisely what he's thinking and precisely what he /means/.</p>
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